


El Desdichado (English)

by Bluespacetoucan



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 07:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluespacetoucan/pseuds/Bluespacetoucan
Summary: /!\SPOILER :During season 3, Marcus Pierce just proposed to Chloe, the Detective is hesitating and the devil is brooding.





	El Desdichado (English)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ! So here's a little Deckerstar OS, very short and a little sad.  
> So this is a translation from a story I wrote in French, it's the first time I write something this long in English, I hope there are not too many mistake, but if you see any please don't hesitate and tell me :)  
> Anyway I hope you'll like it !
> 
> (The title comes from the sonnet "El desdichado", Gérard de Nerval.)

**El Desdichado**

 

There is a moment suspended in time, not really day yet, but not quite the night anymore, and called "l’heure bleue" _(the blue hour)._ The sky turns into an intense, then softer, and deeper blue. The agitation, slowly, transforms into silence. And in this heavy silence, he could hear himself think. Too much. Too loud.  
  
He could sense the storm raging inside his chest; he could feel the waves of remorse crush loudly against his broken hopes, trailing behind them the bitter foam of regrets.  
And mostly, he was hearing his heart. Humans had the stupid idea to associate their feeling with this organ, that was really nothing more than a pump.  
Emotions, feelings, they were generated by the brain, a nervous response to a nervous signal, nothing more, nothing less. However, it was his heart that was hurting, not his head.  
He had wanted to tell her everything, oh so badly he wanted to show her all those disconcerting feelings that made the Devil all too human. 

He had seen everything, the image of Pierce, on one knee, proposing to Chloe, burnt into his retina. He had seen the sparkle of joy in the eyes of _his_ detective, the happiness this immortal imposter seemed to bring Chloe… After that he had turned back to go hiding at Lux like a wounded animal. Joining the crowd, drowning in excess and soaking in alcohol until he was completely numb.  
But this pernicious pain, nested into his chest, seemed to be mocking him, sheltered next to his immortal heart.

It was pretty late now; he was wandering around his club, his kingdom, moving gracefully through the moving, faceless crowd. He perceived the lustful looks that men, and women, gave him. Charming smiles and indecent glances. Lucifer couldn’t help but find them bland and tasteless in comparison to Chloe.  
They all looked at him with lust, fascination, wanting and expecting something from him. None of them looked at him like Chloe does, with irritation and annoyance most of the time, but also, sometime, with what seemed to look like tenderness, a real affection, without trying to get anything in return.

He had enough of the crowd and noise; so he came back to his penthouse. Standing before the glass window, Lucifer Morningstar let his thoughts wander. From here, he overhangs the city of Los Angeles, fuzzy, care-free and silent. The wind was sneering, and some drops of rain were falling… Storm will be here soon.  
His reflection in the mirror caught his eyes for a few seconds, the dancing lights of his penthouse reflecting in the window, creating a light halo above his head that looked like a crown. A bitter smile drew on his lips at the ironic image. On top of his Tower of loneliness, Lucifer, fallen King.

On his big piano was his phone, he grabbed it with a trembling hand, hesitated for a long time, and dialed Chloe’s number. No answer. She was probably enjoying the night with his future husband… The only thought was enough to make him wince.

He left her a message, first hesitating, and then, slowly, he closed his eyes and let the words coming from themselves. All those words he couldn’t find the strength to tell her, he let them slide and save in her voicemail. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous and hang up, shaking like a leaf.

Angrily, he took one of his best bottles from the shelf. Drunkenness, that’s the coward solution he had found to escape reality. He let the first gulp sink, the spicy savor warming up his cold body, his numb heart. Long night ahead…

Next morning, the elevator door sound, and footsteps extracted him from the abyss of his ethylic sleep. He was so soaked in alcohol he felt like he was inflammable. He had fallen asleep on his piano, right hand clenched tightly around his glass, he apparently held this way all night. 

And it’s in this moment it came, that sparkle that set his all being on fire, the sound of this familiar voice, these footstep he could recognize from a thousands. He didn’t need to turn around, he knew

\- Lucifer… whispered the voice behind his back, in a mix of sadness, concern, tenderness and joy

His glass shattered like a burst of laughter.

 

 


End file.
